Faltered Chapter 13

Dean Winchester walked through the door at just a minute past seven the next morning. Bobby looked up and closed the book he had been studying.

The thin boy stood in the doorway hat in his hand and a bag over his shoulder that contained everything he owned in the world. He did not look happy.

"Morning." Bobby greeted the tired looking young man.

Dean sighed. Jim had gotten him up this morning after he hadn't slept most of the night because he was so anxious and told him he had to pack his things because he was going to live with Bobby. No one had said anything about leaving Sam for that long. During the day was one thing. Dean had accepted that it was for the best. He needed to give Sammy his space.

He had not agreed to leave Sammy alone at night. Bad things came out at night. He didn't want to leave Sammy with no protection.

He would have protested if he thought it would have made any difference. Everyone else but him seemed to think him living at the gunsmith's shop was a great idea.

Sammy didn't seem to be worried.

Sammy didn't know what was out there in the dark.

"I said follow me boy." Bobby repeated himself a little louder. Dean hadn't seemed to be listening the first time he was thinking hard about something. The expression on his face was pained. "Come on you can put your stuff up stairs." Dean conceded and followed.

"This will be your room." Bobby said opening the door to the spare room.

Dean's awful expression worsened Bobby misinterpreted the reason. "I know it's not much, kinda small, but it is clean." Bobby apologized. He had taken the time to clean the place up that hadn't made it any bigger.

Dean set his bag down on the bed and nodded sadly to Bobby. It was too much. Dean had never had a room to himself, a bed he didn't have to share.

Bobby wasn't sure what he was seeing, he didn't know what had changed between yesterday and today and he didn't know how to fix it. "You'll stay here during the week and you'll go to church on Sunday like always because the Pastor says you have too." Bobby tried to reassure the boy that being there wasn't going to be horrible. "If you want you can stay Sunday nights at the Pastor's with your brother."

Dean looked up at the mention of his brother.

Bobby figured maybe that's what the boy's problem was he'd seen him with his brother before they were practical attached at the hip. "You know I've known Jim for a lot of years now, I think your brother will be in good hands with him."

Dean looked at Bobby skeptically. "I know you're the big brother and it's your job to look out for him but maybe you need to spend some time apart. This will be kinda like a test for both of you." Dean still looked miserable but Bobby had run out of encouraging things to say and he didn't have the time to think of more. When all else fails it's time to get to work.

"Let's get moving, there's lot's to be done." Bobby pulled his hat down and left the boy.

Dean didn't unpack his things instead he put the bag under the bed. If this was a test like some kind of training then he was not willing to fail. He joined the gunsmith down in the shop ready to work.

Bobby hadn't been lying when he said it would be hard work. Dean had never been scared of a little hard work. He did carry buckets of water up the stairs. They were heavy and it was awkward but he managed not to spill too much. He did whatever Bobby told him.

He'd sat with Bobby at the work bench and held an 1861 Springfield.

"What are the three basic parts of the gun boy?" Bobby quizzed.

Dean cleared his throat, he'd known this since he was seven. "The lock, the stock, and the barrel." pointing to each part in turn.

"Good, do you know why they call it the lock?" Bobby produced a lock that he'd taken out of a rifle the day before.

"No sir." He shook his head as Bobby grimaced at being called sir. Dean had found himself unable to address Bobby 'Bobby', it just wasn't in him.

"Because as the firing mechanism got more complicated and compact, the only craftsmen with tools small and delicate enough to make them were locksmiths."

Dean looked with fascination at the springs and screws Bobby held in his hand.

"Of course now there are gunsmiths." Bobby put the lock down and took the rifle from Dean's hands. "Do you know the difference between a rifle and musket?"

Dean nodded his head, of course he knew that. Bobby wasn't satisfied. "Well what's the difference?"

Dean blinked at the man then thought a moment. "A musket is a smoothbore gun it's the predecessor to the rifle. A rifle has groves or rifling that help's it propel a minie ball more accurately longer distances."

Bobby smiled and squinted at the boy. "My god he's got a brain and a tongue who would have thought it."

At the end of the day Dean was exhausted. He ate what Bobby put in front of him at supper, didn't say anything but neither did Bobby. As soon as the plates were cleared he went back to his room. It was dark but Dean would never have considered lighting a candle anyway there was no need. He sat down and kicked his boots off and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sam's day had been uneventful. He'd gone to school for the second time without Dean. It had felt odd like he was forgetting something all day. He liked that He didn't have to worry about any of the kids messing with Dean. It was a weight off his shoulders. Still a nagging feeling pestered him.

When he'd gotten home he hadn't felt much like talking Pastor Jim did enough for both of them. Sam ate dinner, did his school work and headed to bed. Their room seemed big and empty without Dean there. Sam couldn't fall asleep, it was too light out so instead he sat at the window in the room and tried to read a book. When the Sun was down and the moon came up, Sam still didn't feel like sleeping. He lit a candle and sat it on the window sill. He looked out the window straining his eyes in the darkness and tried to make out the Gunsmith's shop. He'd never really looked for it before. He probably could have seen it during the day but now it was too dark. He wondered if Dean was asleep.

Eventually Sam did get tired and he knew if he stayed up much later he would be too tired tomorrow so he blew out the candle and crawled into bed and under the blanket.

Dean woke with a start as a breeze slipped under the window sending shivers down his spine and causing his leg to ache. Grabbing at the blanket, he slowly realized he was lying on it and not under. He moved and pulled the blanket over him to block the breeze. Suddenly Dean panicked. Sammy wasn't there next to him. Looking around the dark room his blurry eyes could make out was unfamiliar to him. His brother was nowhere to be seen. Thoughts crossed his mind 'where was Sammy' 'where was he' 'should he get up and look' but he was too tired and sore to think about it. He slipped back to sleep before answering any of the questions.

Sammy slept comfortably he usually did. He'd always had Dean watching over him like a guardian angel. There had been more than one time that Sam had woken up at their house or Pastor Jim's that he found Dean awake and watching. He had never questioned why.

In the early morning Dean's pleasant oblivion took a turn for the worse. He smelled smoke. That was always how the dream started with the smell of phantom smoke. Then he heard the screaming high pitched and ear piercing. There was heat and flames. Something was chasing him and he didn't know what it was. He was running. His father and mother were there and he was screaming for them to help him but no one seemed to hear. Sammy was there, he was the only one who Dean could touch everyone else was always just out of reach. He ran. He tried to save his mother but she was devoured before his eyes. He held tight to Sammy his father was always just behind them or just in front of them.

Then Dean knew, he felt the thing, the monster getting closer. He wasn't fast enough. The monster was there, Pop disappeared. Sammy was in danger….

Dean woke with a start for the second time that night. He was out of breath and all he could think about was Sammy being in danger. He wanted to get up he wanted to go to Sammy.

He didn't, he fought his every instinct as they tore him apart.

It was a test. Like Bobby said.

His pop had always said good soldiers are strong and brave. A Good Soldier would never go off half cocked because of a dream. A good soldier could pass any challenge he faced...

Dean laid awake in the dim early morning like he had many times over the years only this time he had no safe Sammy sleeping by his side to reassure him that everything was alright.

TBC…

this was a hard chapter to write I hope it does it's job.